


Istanbul

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Napoleon Whump, Partners to Lovers, Protective Illya, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Istanbul mission, Napoleon becomes bait for an amorous male mark.  Illya gets jealous, and things go badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Istanbul

Napoleon had done this a hundred times before… a thousand times before… and this should be no different.  He scanned the room for his mark and walked past him casually, but with an effort to convey as much charisma as he possibly could.  Gaby walked beside him, her arm linked in his, and Illya sat on the other side of the restaurant – listening, as always.

Napoleon and Gaby, undercover as wealthy tourists Tom Albright and his sister Anna, got a table next to their mark.  They arrived in Istanbul early to prepare, and had been watching him for a week to learn his schedule and gather what intelligence they didn’t already have. Going in, they knew that their mark, Mehmet Aydin, aka Hasan-oğlu Mehmet, was the leader of a drug cartel that was quickly becoming one of the wealthiest in the world.  Mehmet, known to his associates as The Nomad, had begun to export his products to Europe and the United States, and their goal now was simply to gather intelligence.  Trying to take down Mehmet now would simply endanger too many lives.  

Because the mission was so simple, Napoleon should feel confident as ever… but he felt shaken from the start, and he couldn’t say why.

Gaby seemed to see him fidget in his seat, and cleared her throat.  She tilted her head ever so slightly in Mehmet’s direction, and when Napoleon looked up he saw that the man was looking at him.

Napoleon gave an alluring smile and then looked away, pretending to be demure. When he looked up, Mehmet was still looking at him… almost hungrily this time.  All was going according to plan.

&&&

Illya didn’t like this mission.  When Waverly had said to them that this Nomad… Mehmet… was known to truly only have once weakness, Illya hadn’t guessed that they’d end up in this situation.  

“The only thing that ever turns his head is a pretty face,” Waverly had begun.  “You’ll have to use your charms to distract him.”

Gaby sighed.  “So I’m to be bait?”

Waverly smiled.  “Not you, my dear.”  With a glance at Napoleon, he added, “Our Mr. Aydin is also known to have certain… _inclinations_.  He’s previously been seen keeping company with attractive, dark haired young men.  You’ll do fine here, Mr. Solo.”

Illya remembered wincing at the word “inclinations” and the way Waverly had said it… as if it was entirely lascivious.  He also remember a prickly, pinching feeling at his nerves when Napoleon had easily agreed to letting himself be bait.  It just seemed dangerous, that was all.

He could see Gaby and Napoleon getting up and leaving their table.  Napoleon gave a smile to the mark as they passed him, and he noticed with some annoyance that the man watched Napoleon walk away.  Illya sighed heavily.  Napoleon did look nice in more casual clothes – a blue polo shirt and grey twill slacks – and the slacks perfectly showed off a perfect back side.

Illya sat up straighter and shook his head.  He watched his two associates leave, and after another cup of coffee that was a tad too strong for his taste (served from a pot called a cezve, which he noticed wasn’t entirely dissimilar to a smaller version of the samovars he grew up with in Russia), he got up and left the restaurant, using a difference exit.

&&&

From observing Mehmet for the past several days, they had discovered that he made daily visits to a certain Turkish bath.  Napoleon had wanted to visit one anyways, so this was convenient.  However, Illya had insisted on coming with him, and Napoleon wasn’t pleased with the idea.  He didn’t want to turn his charm on for someone else in front of Peril.

“It is not safe for you to go in alone,” Illya insisted.

Napoleon sighed heavily.  “I can take care of myself, Peril.  This isn’t my first time.  Besides, you’ll be listening outside…”

“Will be listening from _in_ side,” Illya corrected seriously.

Napoleon sighed and reluctantly agreed, provided that Illya not sit in the same room with him and risk his cover.  The three of them went their separate ways – Gaby patrolled the perimeter of the facility, Illya went to get a soak, and Napoleon followed Mehmet and his two right hand men into the steam bath.

Napoleon had wrapped a small towel around his waist, and sat down carefully cater-cornered from where Mehmet sat, flanked by his men.  Judging by how they behaved, they were his bodyguards.  

Mehmet seemed to notice Napoleon right away.  Napoleon ignored the slight sense of nervousness he was feeling again as he gave him another coy smile, trying to signal at once that he knew that Mehmet was looking at him (and why) and that he was interested and available.

“Tourist?” Mehmet suddenly asked, in accented English.

Napoleon nodded.  “Afraid so.  I’m here with my sister taking in the sights.”

Mehmet looked him up and down.  “The sights have improved recently.”

Napoleon smiled.  “Are all Turkish men so charming?”

“Do not worry yourself with all of us,” Mehmet said smoothly.  “All that matters is that you see that I am.”

Napoleon had to try hard to keep from laughing.  His mark was very confident, as wealthy and feared men often are.  “I do see that, Mr…?”

“You may call me Mehmet,” the other man replied.  “And you are…?”

“Albright,” Napoleon supplied.  “Tom Albright.”

Mehmet smiled, and it almost beamed.  “I’m very glad to know you, Mr. Albright.  I have seen you around, haven’t I?”

Napoleon nodded.  “Yes.  I’m trying to see as much of this beautiful city as I can.”

“Perhaps sometime I can tell you all the best places to go,” Mehmet suggested casually.  “I _do_ know all the best places.”

Napoleon smiled invitingly, and licked his lips.  “I can see that you would.”

Mehmet laughed heartily.  Then, looking at his watch, he tsked and stood up. “Well, Mr. Albright, I’m afraid my associates and I must be on our way now, but I do hope to see you again.  Perhaps you will be here this time tomorrow?”

“Perhaps I will,” Napoleon replied, smiling innocently.

“Be there this time tomorrow,” Mehmet commanded as he walked out of the room.  When he moved, his body guards followed him, and something about his tone told Napoleon he wasn’t used to not getting his way. It had been an order – one delivered in as suave and gentle a way as possible, but an order none the less.

But Mehmet needn’t worry.  Napoleon would be there.

&&&

“You chased him out of there with your attempt at seduction, Solo,” Gaby said, downing the drink she had just poured for herself.

Illya smiled to himself and swished his own drink around in his glass.  He sat on the cushy couch in Napoleon and Gaby’s big fancy suite and looked up at the two of them as they fought over the last bit of gin in the bottle.

“I’ll have you know my seduction skills are excellent,” Napoleon insisted.  “Mehmet can’t wait to see me again.”

Illya rolled his eyes.  “You were not subtle with him, Cowboy.”

“He wouldn’t have responded to subtlety,” Napoleon shot back.

Illya watched him and thought about saying something more but he merely shook his head and remained silent.  No, he didn’t at all like the idea of Napoleon going back into that bath without being able to see what was happening.  He knew for a fact that their mark was dangerous… it didn’t seem right to let Cowboy put himself in so much danger.

He wondered sometimes if Napoleon’s confidence and bravery came from a disregard for his own safety.  But he wouldn’t voice that opinion… after all, Napoleon could easily accuse him of the same thing.

“Besides,” Napoleon went on, interrupting his thoughts, “I had to be merely intriguing today.  Tomorrow I’ll be charming, and he won’t stand a chance.  We’ll have the rest of the intel we need in no time.”

Gaby shook her head.  “Tomorrow you’ll have a massive hangover and have to stand your Turkish gentleman up.”

Napoleon scoffed and shook his head.  “Only children get hangovers.  I know how to protect myself, you know.”  Having finished the bottle of gin, Napoleon was now groping around for another bottle to keep the party going, but he remained unsuccessful… though Illya suspected he didn’t need it.  He did a little sway, quite artless and clumsy, and Illya had to force himself not to smile while watching him. Napoleon Solo wasn’t nearly as suave as he presented himself to be, and in a way, it was endearing.  

“You had enough, Cowboy,” Illya admonished.  No need for him to dull his senses before heading into work the next day.

“I suppose we should all sleep,” Gaby conceded.

Illya nodded.  He watched as Gaby walked into her room and shut the door to them, and Napoleon stood there looking as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.  Illya felt a strange sense of nervousness as he sat there quietly with Napoleon looking back at him, and he didn’t know why… or what to do about it.  Luckily he could go back to his own room, much more modest than the suite his associates were keeping… but he didn’t mind living spartan.

He stood up and was about to finish the rest of his drink, but Napoleon came a step closer, took the glass from his hand and drank the rest of the liquid inside.

Illya huffed in annoyance.  “Cowboy!  That is rude, and also foolish… you do not know what I put in that drink!”

Napoleon shrugged.  “Well, I assume it was nothing too bad, since you were drinking it yourself.  And no need to throw a fit about me drinking it since you never really wanted it in the first place… Gaby had to insist you have it.”

“Was no reason to take it,” Illya replied, softer, pouting.  He knew he was pouting, and he didn’t care.  Napoleon was right… he _hadn’t_ much wanted the drink in the first place, but he felt like he was losing something he hadn’t realized he really needed.

Maybe it wasn’t even about the drink.

Napoleon offered a little smile.  “Well, if we can find that damned vodka, I’ll pour you another.  You should know how to handle vodka…”

Illya shook his head.  “I don’t want another drink.”  With a sigh, he added, “Gaby was right.  We should all get some sleep.”

Napoleon shrugged.  “Whatever you say.”

“I am going with you tomorrow,” Illya asserted.  And before Napoleon could offer any argument, he left.

&&&

Napoleon was less than thrilled about taking Illya along with him on this mission.  He knew Illya seemed to want to be there in case something went wrong, but being in the same room while he was trying to seduce information out of a drug dealer felt all wrong.

“You do not speak to me in there,” Napoleon whispered.  He wasn’t even looking at Illya, not even long enough to note how very good he looked in nothing but a towel.  He couldn’t risk one of Mehmet’s men seeing them talking, or seeing Tom Albright admiring another man.  It was risky enough that he had one of Illya’s listening devices under his towel, right on his skin practically, and Illya had the receiver in his ear.  He hoped the sound wouldn’t echo and draw any attention.

Illya made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, and Napoleon took it for agreement.  Why that Russian fool was being so insistent about keeping an eye… and an ear… on him at all times, he wasn’t sure. It was annoying and inconvenient to be sure, but it was also extremely flattering.

Once inside the steam bath, Illya sat down across the room, and Napoleon took his same spot from the day before, cater-cornered from Mehmet. He gave the man a coy smile and nodded his head in that direction.

“Mr. Albright!” Mehmet announced cheerfully.  “How lovely of you to return!”

Napoleon smiled brightly, ignoring the instinct to retreat.  “Of course. I’m enjoying this particular bath more than I anticipated.”

Mehmet looked at his two bodyguards, who were flanking him, as usual, and said, “Yusuf, why don’t you move down.  Let Mr. Albright come and sit beside me… where I’ll be able to tell him all about the places he simply _must_ visit.”

The guard on his left hesitated but moved aside.  Napoleon stood up and tried not to look at Illya at all as he went and took his seat.  He wouldn’t allow anything to screw up their work now… not even the fact that he could feel Illya’s eyes burning a hole into him even without looking up at him.

Mehmet wasn’t very subtle about what he wanted.  Artlessly, he caressed Napoleon’s face, and Napoleon turned to look at him coyly.

“What soft skin,” Mehmet cooed.  “I would guess that you’ve never worked a day in your life.”

Napoleon fought back a wince and smiled instead.  “You’re very perceptive.”

“And you are very handsome, Mr. Albright,” Mehmet replied.  His hand made it’s way from Napoleon’s face and along his jawline.  He tried not to hold his breath from nerves when Mehmet’s hand slid gently down his throat, along his collarbone, and finally came to rest on his chest.

“Thank you,” Napoleon managed.  “So are you.”

Mehmet grinned and sort of rubbed Napoleon’s chest a little.  “You’re an awfully friendly young man.  Open too.”  He leaned in a little closer.  “You know, I have a little apartment just upstairs.  I would love to show it to you.”

Napoleon raised a brow.  “Is that one of the sights?”

“You would very much enjoy seeing it,” Mehmet replied cockily.  “I can promise that much.”

Napoleon chanced a look at Illya out the corner of his eye.  He was sitting very tensely, with his hands gripping the edge of his seat.  Any harder and he’d have broken it.  Napoleon felt a bit of apprehension himself about accepting this invitation, and Illya’s reaction was hard to ignore… but he also knew it would look suspicious if he backed off now.  Whatever it took, he would have to go along.

Napoleon cleared his throat.  “I’d like that very much.”

Mehmet stood up and offered Napoleon his hand, and Napoleon took it.  The bodyguards started to follow, but Mehmet shook his head at them.  He led Napoleon out of the bath and down a little corridor outside the steam room.  At the end of that hallway, there was a narrow staircase.

Mehmet started up the stairs and Napoleon followed him, and he knew he couldn’t look back.

&&&

Illya could not believe that Napoleon had just walked away with that man. He had known that Illya didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone! And now he wasn’t safe.  He was in danger and Illya wouldn’t be there to help him.

It had been insulting enough to have to sit here and watch that man try and romance him.  And Mehmet was good looking, too.  Young and fine featured.  It would have been easier to watch him flirt with Napoleon had he been old, or at least less attractive.  But to watch someone else being so familiar with _his_ Cowboy was too much for Illya.

He sat in the steam room and tried not to look at Mehmet’s bodyguards as he focused on what he was hearing.  Mostly it was quiet… shuffling, like the sound of them walking.

Illya kept listening when he heard a creaking sound.  The door opening.

He heard the sound of them walking, and then it stopped.  There was a bit of small talk… and then that stopped too.

The next sounds made Illya cringe.  They were unmistakably the sounds of kissing.

Then suddenly, he very clearly heard Mehmet’s voice ask, “What’s this?”

And the line went deafeningly silent.  Illya’s heart started pounding and he immediately stood up and left the steam room.  Maybe Napoleon wasn’t in danger.  Maybe Illya was overreacting and everything was fine. The listening device could have just broken or malfunctioned… or maybe it had fallen off.  But he had a feeling in his gut that he wouldn’t ignore.  A feeling that said his Cowboy was in trouble… and he was going to help him.

&&&

Mehmet’s little apartment was little more than a room with a practically bare mattress in the corner.  Napoleon was far from impressed, and he was eager to have this all over.   He might get his wish, as Mehmet hadn’t seemed very keen on wasting time once he had Napoleon alone. He’d immediately turned a hungry eye on Napoleon and started backing him over to the bed.

Napoleon hesitated and glanced around the room again, trying to form a plan of how to handle himself.  If he could get under the thin sheet that served as the only covering on that bed.  Or perhaps get on top of Mehmet.  He realized he should have planned better in case he found himself in such a situation, but it was happening, and rather than focusing on what he could or should have done, he’d focus on how he could adapt in the moment.

But Mehmet seemed to notice his reluctance.  “Don’t be shy _now_ , Mr. Albright.” 

Napoleon smiled.  “I’m not.  Just making sure we’re on the same page here.”

“Could there be any doubt?” Mehmet asked.  “I’ve asked you to my room and have made my intentions very obvious.  I’ve made no pretenses to be anything other than what I am.”

“And neither have I,” Napoleon replied.  

Mehmet advanced on him then and kissed him.  Napoleon allowed it to happen, this had happened to him a hundred times before… a thousand times before… and this would be no different.

Mehmet continued to kiss him, and Napoleon turned him around so he could exercise some control over the situation.  He backed Mehmet the rest of the way to the bed and pushed him down.

Mehmet grinned as he pulled Napoleon onto him.  “Now he’s rather bold!  I like it.”  He put his hands on Napoleon’s hips and began to pull the towel down a bit, and before Napoleon could move in to kiss him or distract him, Mehmet’s hand brushed across the listening device.

“What’s this?” he demanded.  “A wire?”  He yanked the device away from Napoleon’s body and easily crushed it.

And Napoleon, who had had many close calls in his career, who always had a clever answer, who never showed his fear, who always had a way out of a tight spot, felt himself panic.

When he was tortured on their last mission, he felt weak and vulnerable. He’d not quite slept the same since.  Sometimes the memories of it came back and completely blindsided him.  And sometimes he felt so damned angry that he’d been in the situation in the first place.

And now, all he could feel was absolute dread and certainty that he would be hurt again… and for what might well have been the first time in his career, he froze.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mehmet demanded.

Napoleon licked his lips.  “Whatever conclusion you’ve come to, I can assure you that you’re wrong.”

Mehmet pushed him down, and his handsome face twisted into an ugly, angry scowl.  He stood up, and loomed over Napoleon menacingly, and Napoleon felt himself tense.  All he could see was what _could_ happen… and as terrified as he was of that possibility, he also felt powerless to do anything about it.

Powerless was a new feeling for him, and he didn’t like it.

Mehmet began to advance on him, and there was a banging sound at the door. Napoleon assumed it was probably Mehmet’s guards, but things moved very quickly after that.  The door burst open, and Illya barreled in with all of his trademark subtlety.

Napoleon looked up at him, and had to keep in a smile.  Illya was making a habit of rescuing him, and Napoleon was making a habit of being glad to see him.  And he could get used to it.

&&&

Illya’s blood was practically boiling.  If he had been a minute later, even a few seconds later, who knew what could have happened to his Cowboy. Illya almost felt like he wasn’t even fully in his body as he ripped Mehmet away from Napoleon.

He held him by the shoulder and began punching him hard, relentlessly. Mehmet’s nose was soon bleeding, most likely broken.  But the world around Illya was practically whited out.  All he could see or hear or feel was his rage, burning and consuming him.  But dammit, he was going to take Mehmet with him for threatening his Cowboy.

But he was beginning to see Napoleon move, out the corner of his eye.  Hear him demanding, “Peril? Listen to me, Peril!”

Illya snapped back to reality.

“He’s got two hulking bodyguards who are likely to be in here in moments,” Napoleon insisted.  “I suggest we leave him here and go.”

Illya nodded.  He dropped Mehmet, unconscious but still alive, unceremoniously on the floor and pointed to a window just big enough for the two of them to climb out.  Luckily they were only on the second story.  Unfortunately, they were both still only clad in their towels… and the shame of botching what should have been a simple mission.

&&&

By the time Napoleon and Illya got out the window, snuck back in the building to get clothes, and made their way back to where Gaby was waiting for them, they found that she had already contacted Waverly about extracting them from Istanbul.  Napoleon didn’t mind that at all though; it couldn’t be wrapped up soon enough for his tastes.

“I had a feeling about this going to hell,” Gaby had said.  Then, glancing at Illya’s bloodied fist, she simply shook her head.

Illya wouldn’t look at her or at Napoleon until they were back in their hotel.  He had gone to his room and gathered his things quickly, so while Napoleon and Gaby finished their packing, he sat on the couch in their suite and waited and watched.  Napoleon could tell he was disappointed and perhaps a bit regretful that he’d not handled himself better.  Napoleon could relate to _that_.

He still felt uneasy and slightly nervous from his close encounter before, but he knew that made no sense.  He’d only been in danger for a few moments.  Yes, he had frozen, but surely if Illya hadn’t come bursting into the room that way Napoleon would have snapped out of it.  Surely…

Maybe he could convince himself if he kept repeating it.

When Gaby closed the door to her room, Napoleon went to pour himself a drink to calm his nerves.  But when he picked up the bottle, he found his hands were shaking too much to pour it.  He flushed slightly and turned away, not wanting Illya to see, but he did.  Of course he did.

Illya stood up and took the bottle from Napoleon’s hands.    “Perhaps you do not need,” he suggested gently.

Napoleon sighed.  “I don’t need it.  I just _want_ it.”

“Your hands are still shaking,” Illya observed.

Napoleon looked down at his own hands and noticed that Illya was reaching toward him.  “They’re just a _bit_ shaky.  I suppose it’s bothering you, though.”

Illya hesitated.  “It is _worrying_ me, Cowboy.”

Napoleon glanced back up at him.  “I’m fine.  I’m made of fairly tough stuff… too tough to fall to pieces over a little jam like we were in earlier today.”

“ _We_?” Illya asked.  “Russians do not get jammed, Cowboy.”

Napoleon smiled.  “You insisted on being a part of it, Peril.”

Illya gave him an annoyed stare and then shook his head.  “ _Da_ , and is lucky thing I did.”

“I… suppose,” Napoleon conceded.  “Though you were a bit loud and clumsy.  Probably the reason everything got fowled up.  But… I can probably forgive you.  Eventually.”

Illya shook his head and snorted a laugh.  “Very generous of you.”

Napoleon looked down at his hands again then.  He realized that they weren’t very shaky anymore, thankfully.  And he felt safer and calmer.   It could simply be because the danger had passed… or maybe it was Illya.  Illya made him feel safe.

“Next time,” Napoleon began, “I won’t stop you from going in with me.”

Illya gently and cautiously reached out and touched Napoleon’s hand.  He could easily claim that was to still Napoleon, had he still been shaking… but he wasn’t.  And he knew Illya just wanted to touch him… and he was okay with it.  It was the most gentle touch he had ever received, and from the most surprising source.  Napoleon turned his hand over quickly and took Illya’s hand in his, and Illya used his thumb to gently caress him.

“You will be fine next time, Cowboy,” Illya practically whispered.

Napoleon looked right at him, as earnestly as he possibly could, and asked, “But you will be there, won’t you, Peril?”

Illya nodded.  He seemed quite incapable of words, and Napoleon felt the same way… so he just kept holding Illya’s hand.

“All right you two, let’s get going,” came Gaby’s voice, as she opened her door.  They let go of one another’s hands, but Napoleon did notice she was raising an eyebrow at them, though she looked completely unsurprised.

“Come on, Peril,” Napoleon began.  He offered Illya his hand, and he didn’t even bother hiding his smile when Illya took it and led him to the door.


End file.
